


The Spirit of Christmas

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Christmas Miracle, Ghost Magnus Bane, M/M, The Magic of Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 14:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17143886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: When a man who is married to his job and doesn’t believe in miracles is confronted with a haunted inn, then the magic of Christmas is sure to happen.Or: The lawyer Alec Lightwood doesn’t believe the inn he has to sell is haunted, but once he meets the ghost in question his world is slowly being turned upside down.





	The Spirit of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the 2015 movie "The Spirit of Christmas" and it screamed Malec at me so here we are.

Alec is the most diligent, most hard-working staff member of Lightwood. He’s also son of the owner, Robert Lightwood, and future CEO, but for now he’s a lawyer married to his job.

He likes his life. Alec isn’t lonely; he has a small but close circle of friends, parents he gets along with despite him being gay, and a brother and sister he loves deeply, a feeling that is mutual. He works hard, and he parties hard, although he has as much fun babysitting his little brother, watching Disney movies and tucking him in after reading a goodnight story, instead of getting drunk in a club.

His love life is nonexistent however, and his sex life consists of semi-regular hook-ups, no strings attached. He hasn’t been in love for years; he isn’t sentimental and he doesn’t miss it. Relationships take effort, and he has no time and energy to spare with his job and the little time that leaves for friends and family.

Christmas is also one of the things that mean little to Alec, but he celebrates with his family because it’s important to them. He buys gifts and eats the food his mother makes, and accepts ties and socks with a smile because they’re well meant.

So for him it’s not a big deal when his father hands him a file that day, 10th of December, to tell him that the job needs doing quickly.

“It’s the Hillside Inn in Barryville,” Robert says. “The owner died and the trust wants it sold as soon as possible, preferably before Christmas.”  
“It’s only two weeks until Christmas,” Alec says as he takes the file, but his father’s frown makes him pause.  
“And we have problems getting the appraisal,” Robert goes on, shaking his head. “We had three agents in there, from the area, and got nothing back. They all went running for the hills after looking at the property.”  
“What?” Alec opens the folder with a mirthless chuckle. “Is the place haunted?”  
“Apparently so,” his father says drily.

Alec looks up. His father shrugs and shakes his head again, and Alec rolls his eyes so hard they almost vanish out of sight for a moment.

“I made another appointment and I want you there,” Robert continues. “Grab the agent and drag him through the house if you have to. We need that appraisal, and we need it now.”  
“Got you,” Alec says, closes the file again and gives his father a nod. “I leave tomorrow, is that okay?”  
“It’s past four, so leaving today is pointless anyway,” his father says with a smile. “I knew I could count on you.”

They exchange another nod and a smile and Alec heads towards his desk, where he sits down to look through the file.

The inn is a lovely two-storey building, more than two hundred years old but extremely well kept. To call it an estate is maybe a bit much, but the main building is surrounded by a sizeable patch of land dotted with flowerbeds and bushes. There’s a shed and a garage with room for two cars and a parking lot. Selling this should be a piece of cake. It’s just a matter of getting an agent for the appraisal, meaning someone who doesn’t believe in ghost stories.

Alec closes the file and calls it a day for now, to pack and get ready for an early start. It’s only a two hours’ drive to Barryville, but the earlier he gets there, the sooner he can get the job done.

He leaves early the next morning, on the phone with an agent to talk about the particulars of the meeting at the inn as he leaves New York. Despite the relatively short distance to New York it’s horribly rural out there; Barryville is a tiny village on the banks of the Delaware River with a general store, two restaurants, a coffee shop and a liquor store, and few minutes to the north he finds the gravelled path leading to the Hillside Inn. Two cars are parked in front of the building that is festively decorated with wreaths and strings of lights.

As Alec leaves the car the main door opens, and he is just about to greet the agent leaving the house who has his files clutched haphazardly under one arm. But the agent storms past him without a word and all but runs towards his car.

“Hey!” Alec follows him. “Hey, we had an appointment!”

The agent ignores him, hits the accelerator and backs out of the parking lot so fast that the wheels kick up gravel.

“Fuck me sideways,” Alec mutters under his breath, fuming with anger. “Idiot.”

He runs both hands through his hair and drops his arms again with a huff and a shake of his head. As he turns around the door opens again and another man steps out, leaning into the doorway with a small smirk. Alec looks back over his shoulder towards the driveway, and at the man in the door.

“Alec Lightwood,” he says. “I had an appointment with Mr. Colliers, but apparently,” he looks over his shoulder again, “he cancelled on short notice.”  
“They all do,” the other man replies in an English accent. “I’m the landlord, Ragnor Fell,” he then adds. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec shakes the offered hand and then crosses his arms. “And what exactly do you mean with ‘they all do’, Mr. Fell?”  
“What I said,” Fell replies. “They are not wanted here, and it’s being made more than clear. And call me Ragnor. I hate formalities.”  
Alec sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “A few leaking windows and creaky stairs have grown men running?” He asks, exasperated.  
“It’s slightly more than that,” the other man replies, his smile entirely too smug for Alec’s liking. “But you don’t seem to believe me.”  
“I’ve grown out of believing in ghost stories years ago,” Alec says and heads back towards his car to get his suitcase.

“You’re planning on staying here?” Ragnor asks him, his eyebrows shooting up.  
“Since I need to work here, I might as well sleep here,” Alec replies. “This is an inn after all, right?”  
“I’m about to close for the holidays,” Ragnor gives back. “I do not advise staying here.”  
“I have a key,” Alec says, “and I am quite capable of using it. And I am not afraid of a set of creaky stairs.”  
“He won’t like it,” Ragnor says, shaking his head.  
“The ghost?” Alec groans. “Please.”  
“Suit yourself then.” Ragnor inclines his head and grabs a suitcase that stands next to the door. “I see you after the holidays.”

The door falls shut behind him and Alec shakes his head with a sigh. He carries his suitcase upstairs and settles down in the largest room that has an en-suite, then gets comfortable with his laptop downstairs in the lounge to look for more estate agents for the appraisal. But none of the agencies that are anywhere near have available staff before Christmas. It looks like he has to call one of the agents they work together with in New York, which is a major inconvenience and adds unnecessary expenses to the case.

It’s dark outside when Alec gives up, and he spends some time reading after going to bed. Out here in the countryside, surrounded by forest, the empty house is eerily silent around him. For someone used to the backdrop of the city that never sleeps the silence is almost unnerving. Alec scoffs at himself and forcefully switches off the bedside lamp.

There are no slamming doors, no creaking stairs, and no windows with air leaking through them that make the curtains stir. Alec falls asleep eventually, but he sleeps fitfully and not that much. He keeps telling himself it’s because of the silence he isn’t used to. Because anything else would be utter nonsense.

Alec pads into the kitchen the next morning, desperate for a coffee. He yawns hard enough to make his jaw crack, but then the yawn breaks off abruptly when he sees that the red lamp on the panel of the burglar alarm is not blinking, which means the alarm is switched off. He examines the panel for faults but finds nothing; someone has just turned off the alarm last night which Alec is one hundred percent sure he activated.

There are a few washed dishes in the dish rack in the kitchen which Alec _knows_ he hasn’t used.

After a few deep breaths Alec calls the local sheriff, who seems unbecomingly amused after he searched the house for intruders and comes up with no trace. He tells Alec he better remember to switch the alarm on tonight and Alec feels like the world’s biggest idiot as he leaves.

Before he goes to bed, Alec activates the alarm and videos himself with his phone as he does it. He takes pictures of the kitchen. And he locks the door of his room, placing a chair under the doorknob for good measure.

Alec sleeps even worse that night, and he shoots upright in his bed when he hears the unmistakable sound of a door slamming shut. He looks around for something that he can use as a weapon, but he doesn’t even have a pocket knife. But sitting here in his room like a scared little kid isn’t an option, so he relies on his physical fitness and martial arts training and leaves his room, tense and with gritted teeth.

He can hear footsteps downstairs and tip-toes down the stairs as quietly as he can, ducking behind the railing when he sees the lights in the kitchen switched on. He manages to sneak into the lounge where he can finally arm himself with the poker from the fireplace, and he enters the kitchen with firm steps, hoping to surprise the intruder.

Who is not surprised at all but rather focussed on slathering butter on a slice of bread.

“What are you doing here?” Alec barks, his fingers closing tightly around the poker.  
After artfully draping a few slices of lunchmeat onto the bread, the stranger looks up, cocking one eyebrow. “It appears that I am eating a sandwich,” he says drily.  
Alec has to fight a trace of amusement despite the situation, because the intruder doesn’t give of any dangerous vibes. Yet. He is still not ready to let his guard down, however. “What are you doing in this house,” he asks again. “And how did you get inside?”  
“I have a key,” the stranger replies and bites into the sandwich. “And I also know the code.”  
“And who are you?” Alec steps closer.

The stranger doesn’t reply; he seems engrossed in his sandwich, eating with the air of a man who hasn’t eaten in quite a while but is forcing himself to go slow and enjoy his food. He is also incredibly handsome and well groomed, and from what Alec can make out, seems to be very nicely built. He is wearing a beige suit and a light brown cardigan, and solid leather shoes. The outfit looks very old-fashioned.

The handsome intruder swallows and gives Alec a smile. “Magnus Bane.”

Alec’s mouth falls open, but then he snorts and grips the poker tighter. “Nice try,” he says. Magnus Bane was the first proprietor of the inn. He died in 1920.

The first rays of dawn are painting the snow outside a dull grey, the light not quite reaching through the windows. Despite himself Alec watches the man, who claims to be someone who died almost a century ago, make himself another sandwich, with cheese this time.

“Would you care for some coffee?” The intruder asks politely and heads for the coffee maker. “Modern day appliances are so incredibly convenient.”  
“I would care to know who you really are, what you want, and how you got in here,” Alec repeats.  
“I already answered all those questions.”  
Alec watches as he deftly operates the coffee maker. “I’m going to call the sheriff,” he says and leaves the kitchen.  
“I advise against that.”

Alec spins around again, but the stranger smiles.

“And why would you advise me against calling the sheriff?”  
“Because it will do you no good,” he replies.  
“Sure.” Alec crosses his arms. “Because you’re the ghost who haunts this place.”  
“Exactly.”

Alec huffs out an annoyed, mirthless laugh. “Seriously?”  
“Don’t believe me?” The “ghost” cocks one eyebrow again.  
“Do you really need an answer to that?”

A heavy sigh is the only answer Alec gets, but then the other man puts his sandwich down and heads towards the back door leading from the kitchen to the yard.

“Come with me,” he says.

Alec doesn’t know why, but he follows the man outside. They walk around the house and across the parking lot, and down the path towards the fence and the open gate. Alec is just about to ask what the fuck this is all about when the stranger stops. He looks over his shoulder at Alec with a wry smile and steps past the fence.

The moment he does, he vanishes into thin air.

Alec chokes on his own spit for a second and stumbles towards the fence, his hands groping the air, but what he expects to find, he couldn’t say. He slowly backs away, his head utterly and completely empty, and after a few steps he turns around and all but runs back to the house. This man can’t be a ghost. Ghosts don’t exist. They don’t. There is a logical explanation for all of this.

He gets a second almost heart attack when he steps inside.

The stranger is sitting on the stairs, giving him a mildly amused look. “I’m bound here and can’t leave the premises,” he says with a one-sided shrug. “But I honestly don’t know why.”

Completely at a loss, Alec stares at the man sitting on the stairs and tries to force his head to stop spinning. Despite what he just witnessed, his mind refuses to believe his eyes. This has to be some kind of trick...

But deep down, Alec begins to doubt himself, and his beliefs about the world. He has seen this man vanish into thin air, after all. And he is comparatively sure he hasn’t been drugged.

They have a moment of a silent stare-off before the other man – who Alec still refuses to believe is a ghost because ghosts don’t exist, but has to call a ghost for now for want of better terminology – breaks the silence.

“And now I ask you to leave. I want my privacy during the holidays.”  
“I have a job to do,” Alec replies tersely. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time, the mildness of the dark eyes looking at him vanishes, replaced by something harsh and cold. “It wasn’t a request. This is my property. Leave.”  
“Or else?” Alec shoots back, his stubbornness winning over his nerves.

Before the argument can escalate another car pulls into the parking lot outside, and the person who enters is none other than Ragnor Fell.

“Oh! Hello, Magnus.”  
“Morning, Ragnor.”  
“Is the fridge stocked to your liking?”  
“It’s perfect, thank you very much, old friend.”

Alec stares back and forth between them.

“I see you met,” Ragnor says, addressing Alec. “I wanted to drop by to see how you’re doing.”  
“I already told him to leave,” Magnus says, arms crossed.  
“And I suspect he won’t,” Ragnor asks with a smile.  
Magnus huffs and rolls his eyes.

Then Ragnor looks at Alec again. “So, I guess you still don’t believe in ghost stories?”  
Alec crosses his arms. “If he’s a ghost, why is he physical? Why does he eat? Ghosts don’t eat.”  
“Normal ghosts don’t, or as far as I know, at least.” Ragnor shrugs. “Magnus isn’t your run-off-the-mill haunt, you know.”  
“I figured,” Alec says flatly and glares at the man sitting on the stairs.

“I don’t know,” Magnus replies, his voice heavy. “I am only like this the twelve days before Christmas, and at midnight on Christmas Eve it’s over again. I don’t remember much from in between, but...” He stares at his feet, an unhappy frown on his face. “I don’t need to eat, you know. I like to. It’s... it brings back happier memories.”  
“From when you were alive?” Alec asks, unable to stop himself.

There, he said it.

No way back from here.

Magnus looks up again and nods. His anger has vanished, and now there is only sadness in his eyes. He looks lost, and helpless, somehow, and Alec’s anger dissipates as well and he discovers that he really begins to believe this nonsense. That he is looking at the ghost of a man who died a century ago, but for some reason that no one knows, him included, can’t pass on.

And then, all of a sudden, something deep inside him rears its head. That special something that made him want to go into law not only because of his parents’ wishes. That something that made him so darn good at his job. Suddenly, this is a _case_. And Alec intends to solve it.

It’s when he looks at Ragnor, and sees his infuriatingly smug smile, that he realises it’s exactly what Ragnor wanted him to do, why he had let him stay and didn’t throw him out despite locking the place down for the holidays.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Ragnor asks, and Alec shakes his head. “Then let’s do something about that.”

Ragnor makes more coffee and a few more sandwiches, and they all settle around the small kitchen table. Alec doesn’t even try to be subtle about watching Magnus eat, and he quickly makes short work of his own sandwich before he grabs his mug and leans back.

“Do you remember how you died?”  
Magnus freezes and after a moment, he puts his sandwich down with a sigh. “No,” he says heavily. “I don’t.”  
“Then what is the last thing you remember?”  
Magnus looks up and stares at him. “What is the point?”  
“The point is that there has to be a reason for all this.” Alec leans forward again. “You died. But you haven’t passed on. There has to be a reason for that. And if we find that reason, then you hopefully can leave this...” He breaks off, unable to find words to describe Magnus’ situation.  
“Miserable existence?” Magnus offers, a crooked smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes.  
“You’re the better judge of that than me,” Alec replies. “But yes. We just have to find out what happened.”  
“We?”  
“You won, if you can call it that,” Alec said with a fatalistic little shrug. “I do believe in ghost stories again. So, do you want my help or not?”

Magnus seems to ponder it, but Alec can see the flicker in his eyes. The sliver of hope for being finally able to free himself from this existence between life and death. Magnus sighs, closing his eyes, and looks at Alec again with a nod.

“So,” Alec asks again. “What’s the last thing you remember?”  
“Coming home,” Magnus replies. “I was...” Another heavy sigh, and Magnus drops his gaze again. “I need to start at the beginning.”

It takes him a moment before he is able to speak again, and when he does, it’s slowly, haltingly, and it’s clearly painful to confront all those memories.

“My father...” he began, “...my father made a living of buying and selling properties, but he did so without scruples about inhabitants or leasers. He bought the inn, but wasn’t too pleased when I wanted to keep it. I wanted to... I just wanted to make a living that didn’t involve making other people miserable. And I... I also wanted to share that simple, peaceful life I imagined for myself. But no one could know about it.”

Here he looks up. “I guess you know that back then, being... for a man to like other men... it wasn’t something you talked about if you valued your teeth in place, and didn’t want to end your life behind bars.”  
“Times have changed, though,” Alec replies.  
“Thankfully,” Magnus says and knots his fingers together.

“So,” Magnus continues after another pause. “My father wanted me to marry, a political marriage, a marriage for money and influence. But she was a horrible person. Selfish, cruel to her servants and anyone who she deemed below her. I didn’t want anything to do with her, even if I hadn’t loved someone else. But I could never openly admit it, other than to George himself. But my father had great influence and a very long arm, so George and I knew that if we wanted to be happy together, we had to run. Far, far away.

“That’s why I left, so shortly before Christmas. I had finally found someone who was willing to lend me the money I needed to get us to California, and from there take a steamer to Australia. And I promised...” Magnus breaks off and swallows hard. “I promised George I’d be back home in time for Christmas, and by the time the new year was born, we would be on our way out of the clutches of my father.”

A heavy silence hangs in the small kitchen.

“I was back on Christmas Eve,” Magnus continues, his voice low and husky. “I could already see the lights of the inn, where my father was hosting the Christmas celebration. I could see the house, and... I don’t remember what happened then. Only that the next time I was conscious, the inn stood empty, and George was gone, and I couldn’t leave the premise anymore. I promised George I’d be back...” Magnus wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “But I never saw him again.”

“Magnus, I’m so sorry...” Alec says softly, his heart aching. Now he really doesn’t care anymore what his father might have to say about this, or anyone else, or if he will be ridiculed for the rest of his life in New York. He just wants to help Magnus find the peace that he has been denied for so long.

“That has to be the reason, right?” Alec looks back and forth between Ragnor and Magnus. “The fact that he made a promise he couldn’t keep?”  
“But it wasn’t my fault!” Magnus says, his voice ragged with despair.  
“I know.” Alec shakes his head with a sigh. “But there has to be something we can do.”

He and Ragnor look at each other, while Magnus stares at his hands.

Alec takes a sip of coffee, and purses his lips in thought. There has to be something. Somewhere, there is the missing piece of this puzzle, and he will find it.

“So the last thing you remember is seeing the inn,” he recapitulates, looking at Magnus. “And that was on Christmas Eve.”  
Magnus nods without looking at him. “It was shortly before midnight. I almost made it. Almost.”  
“But for some reason, you didn’t.”

Suddenly Magnus inhales sharply, shoots upright. One of his hands flows towards the back of his head.

“I was... I was knocked over the head,” he says tonelessly. “I never remembered that before...”

“Maybe no one has asked you before?” Alec narrows his eyes. “So you were murdered.”  
“It seems like it,” Magnus replies, slack-mouthed and wide-eyed.  
“So the next question is: Who has a motive?” Alec presses his lips against his teeth for a moment. “Who had anything to gain from your death?”  
Magnus can only shake his head. “I don’t know.”  
Alec huffs out a heavy breath. “I guess we need to dig a little deeper then.”

After a few moments more he decides that he needs to leave, temporarily. He needs sources that he can’t access from here, and he tells the other two as much. Not wasting any time he gets ready immediately, and three hours later he is back at his desk in his office in Manhattan.

His father does a double-take when he sees him. “What are you doing here? Did you get the appraisal done already?”  
“No,” Alec replies and opens his laptop. He has prepared a speech on his way home. “You won’t believe this.”

After plugging the laptop in, Alec gets up and shakes his head. “Remember the ghost stories? Well apparently the inn has such a reputation that pretty much everyone is afraid of the place. So now I intend to do some research to find the logical explanation for that nonsense, to prove once and for all that there is nothing supernatural going on there.”  
“Oh my God, we really don’t need that kind of delay right now,” his father says, in exasperation and annoyance.  
“No, we don’t,” Alec replies. “And we even might have to get in one of our New York agents for the appraisal.”  
Robert groans and covers his face with one hand.  
“I’m doing what I can, Dad...”  
“I know.” Robert rolls his shoulders and smiles again. “I know I can rely on you. If this doesn’t work out before the New Year then it’s not your fault.”

Alec smiles back and wonders what his father would say if he would mention the actual ghost story he is suddenly very much a part of.

Using his professional connections Alec gets to work, but things take time and old archives aren’t always perfectly organised. So he spends those days at his desk pretending to work on his case, but no matter what he tries, time just crawls and the hours feel like days. At the same time he knows they’re running out of time, as Magnus would be gone again Christmas Eve, and Alec really doesn’t want him to suffer through another year.

Miraculously he manages to hide the state he’s in from his parents and his sister during the time he waits for the requested files, and once he has gotten all the documents, he immediately leaves New York again. There’s not much time left but he thinks he found the missing piece, or at least one of them.

Both Ragnor and Magnus have eagerly awaited his return, and they gather round the kitchen table again where Alec spreads the copies of several documents.

“I scraped together everything I could find about the inn, from that decade and the next,” he says. “Everything concerning every person who might have been involved. And I think I found something of interest.”

Ragnor and Magnus lean forward eagerly, and Alec produces a copy of a certificate. “You mentioned that your father wanted you to marry a woman. Camille Belcourt, right?”  
Magnus nods. “She was a horrible person.”  
“Apparently your father didn’t think so. Because less than a year after your death, he married her himself.”

Magnus’ eyes don’t pop out of his head, but it is a near thing.

“But is that a motive?” Ragnor asks. “Magnus and Camille weren’t even engaged yet.”  
Alec purses his lips again. “I don’t know. But this is too big to not mean something, because it’s-”  
“It’s nothing,” Magnus cuts in. “I saw them, both of them. They were standing on the veranda. My father, and Camille. Neither of them could have killed me.”  
“Unlikely they would have even wanted to do that,” Alec says. “To judge by what I know, they would have employed someone to do their dirty work.”  
Ragnor shakes his head. “But why would he have his own son murdered when he was about to marry for influence and money?”

Alec looks at the death certificate of Magnus Bane, died 24th of December, 1920. Then he looks up again at Magnus.

“Magnus, did your father know about George? Or suspect anything?”  
Magnus swallows hard. “I don’t know...” Then he pales. “What happened to him? What did he do to George?”  
“Nothing,” Alec says soothingly. “I found him. George Fitzgerald moved away from Barryville in 1921, and he died 1954 in Scotts Valley, California. As far away from your father as he could possibly get.”

Magnus exhales softly and shakes his head, then wipes the back of his hand across his eyes.

“You still love him, don’t you,” Ragnor says softly.

Magnus is still for a long moment.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice hardly audible. “It’s been such a long time...” He looks up, his eyes clouded but without the tears spilling over. “Even with only being here twelve days a year... it’s been more than three years in total of only the days I’ve been alive during that time.”  
Ragnor gently rests his hand on top of Magnus’. “At least your father didn’t harm him.”  
“And I’m grateful for that,” Magnus replies. “I like to think that he found happiness, and love, but it was still a difficult time to be... different.”  
“Homosexual,” Alec says, gently and without reproach. “You can say the word without consequences, nowadays. You can say you are gay without being thrown into jail.”  
“I know.” Magnus nods slowly and licks his lips before looking at him. “But I am not gay if I also like women, am I?”  
“Well, that term would be bisexual,” Alec says, as calmly and matter-of-factly as he can.

A small bit of light appears in Magnus’ eyes again, and the ghost of a smile around his lips, while faint, is real.

“Well then,” Ragnor says after a tactful pause. “We know George wasn’t harmed, and he likely left the area shortly after your death. But it still might be true that your father, Magnus, suspected that you had another lover and would refuse to marry Camille. It wouldn’t have been good for his reputation, but things like that have been arranged away before. A male lover, however...” He sighs. “That would have been a major scandal.”  
“So Asmodeus Bane protecting his name and fortune by killing his son to avoid a horrible scandal is a motive,” Alec says, and turns to Magnus. “Do you think he was cold enough for a move like that?”  
“Yes,” Magnus replies without hesitation. “He would have sold his grandmother for a handful of buttons if he had gotten something he wanted out of that.”

Alec sorts through the papers and frowns. “So if the motive was protecting your father’s wealth and reputation, but you know for a fact that neither he nor Camille killed you, that means there was a murderer there somewhere who has never been brought to justice.”  
“But that shouldn’t be Magnus’ problem!” Ragnor falls back in his chair. “It all doesn’t make sense! Or it does, but it doesn’t explain why Magnus is still here!”

“One piece of the puzzle is still missing,” Alec says and leafs through the papers. “But I can’t access the archives again, there’s no one working there anymore before New Year. Damnit.”

Ragnor pulls the stack of papers over and picks up a sheet with a frown. “What’s that?”  
“Newspaper clippings,” Alec replies, frowning as well. “About the death of Magnus Bane, and the marriage of his father and Camille Belcourt.”  
“Hmm.” Ragnor reads through several articles, but then he suddenly emits a sharp whistle.

“What is it?” Alec leans forward.  
“Did you read the bit about the suicide?”  
“Apparently not,” Alec replies with a frown. “I was in a real hurry and only skimmed the articles before I came here. What about the suicide?”  
“Well, shortly after the Christmas where Magnus was killed, someone committed suicide by the end of a rope, here in this very inn.”

Ragnor gives Magnus a significant look. “Might be your murderer who couldn’t deal with his conscience.”  
“Maybe.” Magnus stares at the table with a frown. “But why is it my problem that whoever killed me regretted their choice? And who’s to say that they did indeed end themselves?”

No one had an answer to those questions.

Magnus leaves the kitchen after a few minutes of silence, but Ragnor and Alec stay, giving him his solitude. They comb through the documents again and again, but no matter how often they read everything, nothing new comes forward. But even if there might be something in one archive or another, it is too late to find anything there. For this year, at least.

Alec promises himself that he won’t give up, that he will keep searching and digging through old books and files and documents until he is old and grey, that he will see Magnus free from this existence. The desolate look of loneliness and sadness in those beautiful brown eyes is haunting him, and he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about those eyes while in New York.

But it isn’t only the fact that Magnus is so beautiful. Yes, if he had met him in a club in Manhattan or Brooklyn he would have climbed him like a tree, but there is something about Magnus that makes Alec want to tuck him up somewhere and offer any comfort that he can. He wants to kiss those traces of tears away.

He is in trouble.

Years and years of feeling nothing for anyone, and now he is developing a crush on a dead guy.

Alec doesn’t know what Ragnor and Magnus are doing for the rest of the day, but he leaves them to their own devices while he spends the time with his laptop in the lounge. He can’t access any archives of course, nor any police files, but he has to do something. Anything. Anything to distract himself from the growing feeling of dread about being so attracted to the ghost of a dead man, and the fact that he is a ghost at all, unable to find peace.

Later that afternoon Magnus joins him however, asks almost shyly if he can watch what Alec is doing. Alec feels his heartbeat quicken as Magnus sits down next to him, but he forces the feeling down and tries to explain the basics of the internet to Magnus. That gets him nowhere, of course, so he goes back and starts with the telephone and takes it from there. Most people nowadays don’t know how the internet works either, anyway, and despite not understanding most of it, Magnus is fascinated by the concept.

He has a lot of catching up to do; the world changes darn fast when you are only conscious for twelve days each year.

They have dinner together with Ragnor but when he retreats to bed, Magnus and Alec return to the lounge. Alec suggests watching a movie, and after some debate, they decide on Brokeback Mountain. Alec warns Magnus several times about the content and the less than happy ending, but Magnus is ready, or that’s what he says.

Alec has somewhat of a love-hate relationship with that movie, and despite having watched it several times already, still ends up in tears at the end. And when he dares to look up, he sees that Magnus is in no better state. Their eyes meet, and after a second they both chuckle, and wipe their eyes.

“That was horrible,” Magnus says and Alec nods.  
“I know.”  
“Can we watch something happier next time?”  
“God, yes,” Alec replies and wipes his eyes again.

Their hands brush, and somehow, their fingers close around each other’s. Then their eyes meet again, and both their smiles look embarrassed now. Suddenly neither of them knows where to look anymore so they stare at the screen of Alec’s laptop again that sits on the coffee table before them.

A few moments pass in silence, but they don’t let go of each other’s hands. And eventually, as Alec hesitantly looks up again, he finds Magnus watch him with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” Alec whispers before he can stop himself.  
Magnus’ eyebrows shoot up and he swallows, but then he softly clears his throat, and a shy smile flits over his lips. “Thanks...” he mutters.

There isn’t much distance between them anymore, but before either of them can move any closer the door to the living room slams open and they jump away from each other.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Ragnor says, sounding slightly winded.

Alec crosses his arms so tightly his hands vanish in his armpits, and Magnus looks away, nervously rubbing his thumb across his lower lip.

“I am really sorry to have destroyed the mood,” Ragnor goes on. “You were clearly having a moment there, but I think we have another problem.”

“What now?” Magnus asks, and rubs his hands down his face.  
“I think you might not be the only ghost in this house.”

Magnus freezes, and looks up very, very slowly. “What?”  
“I swear it sounded like someone talking, but I couldn’t understand a word. Also, the door to the small closet room kept sliding open no matter how often I tried to close it.”

Alec and Magnus exchange a look and quickly got up, and all three of them hurry up the stairs. They are only greeted by silence, however, and once Alec closes the door to the small room, it stays shut.

“Well...” Alec clears his throat. “I’m the last one here to deny that this could be real so... I guess we should keep an eye on that.”

Alec can’t find rest that night, but it’s only partly the thoughts of another ghost that are keeping him awake. It’s also the feeling of Magnus’ fingers threaded together with his own, the light reflecting in those beautiful brown eyes, and god, does Alec want to taste his lips, feel those arms around him.

He’s fucked. Well and utterly screwed.

It’s past midnight when he gives up sleeping as a lost cause. He slips into sweatpants, thick socks, and an oversized hoodie, and quietly pads down the stairs again. The fire is still burning, but he isn’t alone when he enters the lounge. Magnus is standing in the middle of the room, looking at the corner with sad eyes.

“We always had the Christmas tree here,” he says. “But there hasn’t been a tree here for... I can’t remember how long.”  
“Because the inn was always empty during the holidays?” Alec asks cautiously.  
Magnus turns around. “Because I wanted my solitude during this time.” A small smile appears on his face, still wistful, but honest. “But maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all, wanting to suffer in silence and alone.”  
“No, I don’t think so,” Alec replies softly and steps past him.

He doesn’t want to intrude into Magnus’ personal space, so he sits down on the sofa instead, and stares into the flames dancing in the fireplace. He has to force himself from fidgeting nervously as Magnus steps closer, and keeps staring into the fire as Magnus sits down next to him. He can feel Magnus’ fingers brush the back of his hand, but for now Alec doesn’t make a move to return the gesture.

“George,” he says softly. “Do you miss him?”  
“I did,” Magnus replies after a moment. “For a long time. I guess I still do, somehow, but it was such a long time ago. I loved him... I really did... but God, I can’t even properly remember his face anymore.”  
“Magnus, I’m so sorry,” Alec whispers, and closes his fingers around Magnus’ after all.  
“I managed to stop blaming myself decades ago,” Magnus replies in a low voice. “There’s nothing I can do about it. And knowing George, he would have understood. He was a gentle soul. There wasn’t a trace of malice in him, and he always tried to see the best in everyone and everything. He was a sweet ray of sunshine.”

“I wish you could have been happy together,” Alec replies, his heart heavy in his chest.  
“So do I,” Magnus gives back, a wistful smile on his lips. “But for two men to be happy together in that time... it was a near impossible thing.”  
“It just breaks my heart,” Alec says, shaking his head. “Today, you could, you know... You could show public affection, and you could even get married.”  
“As it is, I’m not even alive,” Magnus says with a sad chuckle. “Not to speak of having no one to be affectionate with. And who wants to be with someone who’s only around for twelve days a year?”

“You’d be surprised,” Alec mutters, and only realises that he has said those words aloud when Magnus next to him stiffens and swallows audibly.

But there’s no unsaying those words, so he slowly and hesitantly looks at Magnus again. Magnus looks at him, an unspoken question in his eyes, and a trace of confusion, and a sliver of hope.

Alec can’t say who moves first, but suddenly there is no air between them anymore, and time seems to stand still the moment their lips touch. And yes, Magnus is very much physical in every sense of the word; Alec can feel the warmth radiating off his body, can relish the softness of his lips, surrounded by a hint of stubble, can feel the heartbeat in the pulse under his fingers, and even smell a faint note of some exotic spice or another that must have been part of Magnus’ cologne, and that has travelled with him into this twisted, lonely version of the afterlife.

They don’t do anything else but kiss, soft and gentle touches of lips, while they sit next to each other holding hands, warmed by golden firelight. They eventually end up in each other’s arms, and Alec just closes his eyes and listens to Magnus’ heart, beating strong and steady, here and now at least. He doesn’t think, doesn’t want to think, because if he does he will not be able to avoid the fact that he will lose Magnus in a couple of days.

Alec opens his eyes to bright daylight, and he is alone on the sofa, covered with a thick quilt. He sits up and blearily blinks into the light, the reflection of sunlight on the brilliant white snow outside biting into his eyes. Magnus is nowhere to be seen, and not quite sure if he has dreamed last night’s kisses or not, Alec heads back upstairs to get dressed.

He doesn’t bother with breakfast and only downs a quick cup of coffee before he leaves, but promises Ragnor he will be back within a few hours, at most. He doesn’t ask about Magnus, and he thinks that maybe he regrets last night, if it really happened and wasn’t only a figment of Alec’s dreams.

He returns to the inn shortly after noon, and he carries the spoils of his journey inside with an air of victory. Then he locks himself in the lounge and stays there until dusk begins to fall.

He doesn’t have to go look for Magnus though; he finds him sharing a cup of tea with Ragnor in the kitchen.

“I got something for you,” Alec says, feeling a little shy, something he isn’t used to. He’s not sure how Magnus will take this gift, or what Alec hopes is a gift and not something that tears open old wounds. Magnus slowly gets up and follows Alec into the lounge, but stops dead the moment he steps through the door.

Alec has pulled out all the stops with the Christmas tree there in the corner, there are real candles and red glass baubles, and golden glass baubles shaped like fir cones, and little white porcelain angels.

Magnus stands there and stares, and just as Alec is about to wonder if he has made a terrible mistake Magnus looks at him, tears in his eyes and a beautiful smile on his face. He closes the distance between them with a single step and has his arms around Alec before Alec knows what’s happening. But then he closes his arms around Magnus and pulls him close.

“Why did you do that?” Magnus mutters into Alec’s shoulder.  
“I thought... you said you haven’t had a Christmas tree for so long and I thought... I thought maybe it could make you feel a little... less lonely, less sad... and since it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow-”

He doesn’t get any further because Magnus rests his hands on Alec’s cheek and pulls him into a kiss, and Alec leans forward with a sigh. Their arms around each other they stand there and exchange kisses in front of the tree, but eventually Magnus breaks the kiss and leans back. His eyes are soft, and moist, and he rests a gentle hand on Alec’s cheek.

“Alexander... why are you doing this?”  
“Doing what... the tree?”  
“No, not the tree.” Magnus brushes his thumb across Alec’s cheekbone. “This. This is pointless. I’ll be gone by midnight tomorrow and I will not be back again before next Christmas.”  
“I know,” Alec says, and leans forward so their forehead touch. “I know, and I’m not happy... but that’s the way it is. I was... I hoped I could help you, but I couldn’t. But I... I’ll wait. I wait for you, Magnus Bane, because you’re worth it. And if we only have twelve days each year, then it’s still more than nothing.”

Magnus is clearly at a loss for words, and he simply falls into Alec’s embrace again. Alec closes his arms around him and they hold on, pushing any thoughts aside because their time is running out.

This time Alec wakes up with his head in Magnus’ lap, and he smiles dreamily as gentle fingers card through his hair.

“Good morning,” Magnus says.  
“Morning,” Alec mutters back, and closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want to face the day, doesn’t want to think that tonight, he will have to say goodbye to Magnus for a whole year.

Alec and Magnus spend the morning with doing nothing, mostly sitting on the sofa and drinking tea. Shortly after noon they take a little walk, however, with Magnus wrapped in his thick woollen coat and Alec wearing his high tech outdoor jacket, together with knitted hat and mittens.

Magnus starts it with a well placed snowball hitting Alec’s backside, and Alec immediately takes his revenge. They end up covered in snow and laughing like idiots, and leave a mess of snow-covered boots and coats and puddles of melting snow behind in the entry hall.

The rest of the day they spend on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and Ragnor makes himself very, very scarce. He has picked up on what has been going on, of course, and tries to give them as much privacy as he can.

The other ghost hasn’t made an appearance again and still hasn’t when dusk falls.

It’s only hours until Alec has to say goodbye, and in one last desperate attempt to not give up, Alec sits down on his bed again with the paperwork he brought with him from New York. He has gone through all of this, alone and with Ragnor, so many times that he knows every article by heart, but he still reads them again, hoping against all hopes that he may find the thing that he overlooked.

He doesn’t quite register the squeaking door and almost jumps out of his skin when it slams shut. Taking a few deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat he sits there for a moment, but then puts the papers down and cautiously leaves his room. Magnus is downstairs with Ragnor, because initially the only reason why Alec had gone upstairs was to use the bathroom.

Now he walks slowly down the corridor and sees that the door to the small closet room stands open again. He cautiously pushes the door fully open so he can step inside, but he sees nothing.

The door slams shut behind him. Alec spins around and grabs the door knob, and then a shiver runs down his back caused by a gust of cold wind. The window in this room is tiny but it’s shut, and Alec tries to turn the doorknob, but it doesn’t move.

Alec spins around, pressing his back against the door, his whole body frozen in terror. The shadow of a corpse swinging from a rope is visible at the other end of the room next to the window.

The hardly audible, ragged moan makes every hair on his body stand on edge.

“Magnus!”

Alec doesn’t care that he sounds like a terrified little child, he’s trapped in a tiny room with a malevolent haunt and he’s more terrified than he has ever been before.

“Ragnor!! Magnus!!”

He doesn’t hear them coming but he feels the door being pushed against his back, and he stumbles a step to the side and falls into Ragnor’s arms, gasping and shaking. Magnus steps into the room looking around with wide eyes, but the shadow is gone, and so is the voice. Alec is so shaken he is hardly able to tell them what happened.

“This is where he killed himself,” Magnus whispers. “In this very room.”  
“So it would seem,” Ragnor says and neither he nor Alec are embarrassed about him having an arm around Alec’s shoulders, holding him close.

“You did it, didn’t you,” Magnus says into the empty room. “You killed me.”

The air around them cools by several degrees, and Alec closes his eyes with a shudder.

“Who are you?” Magnus looks around, hands curled into fists. “Speak to us.”

Nothing happens.

“Who are you!!”

It’s a shadow at first, there where Alec had seen the shadow of the hanged man, but this shadow is standing there for a good long moment before it moves. As it steps closer the forms becomes clearer, the shadow turns into a man, and the sound that escapes Magnus when he sees the face is almost a sob.

“Raphael?” Magnus voice is flat and shaking. “You...?”

Raphael says nothing, but tears are running down his face.

“Raphael...” Magnus whispers again. “Why...”

Raphael shakes his head, and tears drip from his chin. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “Magnus, I’m so sorry... I couldn’t... I didn’t have a choice...”  
“Raphael... my dear friend...” Magnus steps closer, and the hate and anger on his face have been replaced by a deep sadness. “What have they done to you?”  
Raphael swallows and wipes his hand across his eyes.  
“Camille and my father, am I right? What did they do to you?”  
“To me, nothing,” Raphael whispers. “But they had Rosa, and Maria and Juanita. They said that... they... they would kill my sister, and her baby girls, and I... Magnus, I’m so sorry... I didn’t have a choice...”

Magnus is dumbstruck, but his eyes begin to fill with tears as well. Raphael covers his face with his hands and sobs helplessly into his palms. Magnus watches this for only a moment before he steps closer and embraces him, closing his arms firmly around Raphael’s shoulders.

“I’m... so sorry,” Raphael says, his words hacked apart by ugly sobs. “I couldn’t... let them hurt Rosa... or her girls... but I couldn’t live... I couldn’t live with myself...”  
“Oh god...” Magnus runs his hand down Raphael’s back. “My poor boy...”

Both Ragnor and Alec can only watch the heartbreaking scene in painful silence. Raphael can’t stop crying into Magnus’ shoulder, and Magnus holds him, running a hand up and down his back, and rocks him gently back and forth.

It takes a long time until Raphael is able to look at Magnus again, but his tears still haven’t stopped.

“Magnus... I’m so sorry...”  
“I know,” Magnus says gently and rests a hand on Raphael’s cheek. “And I know how much your family meant to you, and how much you loved your sister and your nieces. And I hate that you’ve been put through this... to be forced to choose between your friend and your family...” He caresses Raphael’s cheek. “But I forgive you.”  
“Magnus...” It’s a toneless, almost inaudible whisper.  
“I forgive you,” Magnus says again, with a smile. “Go, and be free of this existence, of this torture. Go and be with your family again, my friend.”  
“Magnus...” Raphael whispers again. “I don’t deserve this...”  
“That’s not for you to decide,” Magnus replies, still smiling softly. “I forgive you, and I want you to rest in peace now. You have suffered for my father’s cruelty long enough.”

Then Magnus lets go and steps back. “Te perdono,” he says gently, and another sob tears out of Raphael’s throat. “Descansa en paz, mi amigo.”

Raphael seems to want to say something, but a faint, golden light appears out of nowhere and envelopes him. He stares at Magnus who still smiles mildly at his friend, and with the next heartbeat, Raphael is gone.

Magnus’ cheeks are wet with tears, and he wordlessly spins around, pushes past the two other men and all but runs down the stairs. Alec and Ragnor follow him, and find him standing in the lounge staring at the tree.

“He was my best friend,” Magnus whispers. “I can’t even imagine what horrors my father must have threatened him with to make him do this. He was a good man.”  
“And he is at peace now,” Ragnor says gently.  
“He deserves nothing less,” Magnus replies.  
“But so do you,” Alec says, and tries to blink away his tears. “You deserve peace as well.”

A sad, wistful smile appears on Magnus’ face. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

Then he looks at the fireplace, and the clock on the mantelpiece. There are only a few minutes left until midnight.

“It’s time for me to go,” Magnus whispers and takes Alec’s hands. He drops a soft kiss onto Alec’s lips, and lets go again before he steps back. “Please don’t come after me,” he says then and steps away, turning around one last time after putting on his coat, before he opens the door. “Goodbye, Alexander.”

Alec manages to keep his sob inside until the door has closed again, but as soon as Magnus is gone he heads towards the door. Ragnor grabs his arm however and pulls him back.

“Don’t,” he says and takes Alec’s other hand. “Don’t go after him. I made that mistake once.”  
Alec gives him a desolate stare.  
“I was curious and I...” Ragnor sighs. “Let’s say I came to regret it. I watched him go and it was... it broke my heart. He stood there, shoulders slumped in defeat, and then he suddenly turned all grey, like he was turning into stone. But then he just.... crumbled away, as if he was nothing but a pile of ash in the wind. And all that without a sound.”

Ragnor shudders at the memory and leads Alec back into the lounge and towards the sofa. Alec no longer resists and he falls into the sofa and buries his face in his hands. Ragnor sit down next to him and wipes his eyes.

“He doesn’t deserve this,” Alec chokes out. “It’s not fair...”  
“No, it’s not,” Ragnor whispers. “It’s cruel. It isn’t right.”

Alec spends the rest of the night on the sofa in front of the dying fire, with Ragnor as silent companion in his grief. He has no idea how he will be able to go back again, back to his life in the big city, living for his job and his family, when these memories will haunt him for the rest of his life. The memories, and his failure. He wanted to help Magnus, more than anything, and he had failed.

 

_Magnus knows what awaits, but even after a hundred years, it does not get any easier, and he is no less afraid._

_But something is different._

_Someone is waiting there, beyond the gate._

_Magnus stops and stares, and truly, there he is, as sweet as ever, his smile as sunny as Magnus remembers it. He does not remember when he is back there in the living world, but here, during those few moments in the in-between, he remembers everything._

_“George?”_

_“Magnus.”_

_“Have you been waiting for me all that time?”_

_“Yes.” A beautiful smile lights up his face. “Because I have a gift for you, and today, I can finally give it to you. The last thread holding you here has finally been severed.”_

_“A gift?” Magnus isn’t sure what to feel, that this time will be his last. It is bittersweet, thinking of Alec and the fact that now, when he finally had something to look forward to, he would never come back. But either way, the choice isn’t his to make._

_“I only ever wanted you to be happy.” George steps closer, and runs his hand down Magnus’ cheek in a gentle caress. “Here,” he whispers. “I don’t need this anymore.”_

_With that he drops a soft kiss onto Magnus’ lips, a chaste kiss, a kiss of familiarity and affection, not of passion._

_Magnus wants to ask what he means, what all of this means, but he cannot move anymore. The warmth of George’s kiss spreads in his body and turns into an all-consuming heat, and everything vanishes in a golden flash of searing fire._

 

Day breaks, and Alec knows he can’t stay here anymore. He just wants to go home, be back in his own place, have a shower, crawl into bed, and maybe get senselessly drunk in between. Have the sounds of the never sleeping city drown out the silence.

He packs, and Ragnor accompanies him out of the house and across the parking lot. But after throwing his suitcase into the boot, Alec walks down the path towards the gate. Ragnor follows him, towards the threshold that Magnus couldn’t cross, and steps next to him when Alec stops.

In front of them is a perfectly round circle of gravel, the snow cleanly molten away. The snow around the hole is lower and has a smooth sheet of ice covering it, and it all looks as if someone has lit a fire in the centre of that circle.

“That’s odd,” Ragnor says, frowning in puzzlement. “It never looked like that before.”

Alec swallows and grits his teeth. It takes him a moment before he can talk.

“Does that mean... when it was different this time... does that mean he’s... that he’s somewhere else now?”

They both stare at the spot of snow-free ground.

“I hope so,” Ragnor whispered. “He deserves to rest in peace more than anything.”

Alec knows he should be happy, or at least relieved, but the thought of never seeing Magnus again brings him to his knees. Ragnor wordlessly kneels beside him and drapes an arm around his shoulders again.

The sun comes up over the rise east of the building, casting long shadows of the trees towards them.

It’s faint at first, and Alec isn’t sure he’s imagining it, but when he looks up at Ragnor he can see the other man can hear it as well, by the way he cocks his head with a puzzled frown. They exchange a look, and find the confirmation in each other’s eyes that they are both hearing the unmistakable sound of footsteps in snow.

They scramble to their feet when a small, moving shadow appears between the dark spears of the leafless trees, and they stare at each other, and at the moving figure that is approaching the fence with the laborious sway of someone striding through deep snow.

“Magnus,” Alec whispers, not able to believe his eyes, but his heart is burning with hope that this miracle is really happening. “Magnus?”

And then they can see him, wearing the thick grey coat that he had put on as he had left the house, and he stops and stares at them, but Alec has already broken into a run. He vaults the knee-high fence easily and moments later he has reached him, and they clamp their arms around each other when Alec throws himself at Magnus with full speed.

They’re laughing and they’re crying, and then they kiss, and then they embrace again and laugh again, and also cry a little more.

“How,” Alec is finally able to ask, smiling at Magnus through his tears. “We thought you were gone... we saw the molten snow and thought you had finally moved on.”  
“I’m not quite sure myself,” Magnus says and wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “I remember seeing George, and I remember him saying he had a gift for me. And I remember fire... and the next thing I feel is snow under me, and there I am, lying in the very same spot where I died a hundred years ago.”

“You’re... alive?” Alec asks, an incredulous whisper. “You’re alive again?”  
“I... I think so,” Magnus replies, his cheeks wet, but with a smile forming on his face. “I was never able to exist outside of this fence so... I guess that was George’s gift... giving me enough strength so I could... stay.”

They lean towards each other until their foreheads touch, their arms closed around each other.

“You got another lifetime,” Alec whispers.  
“Yes,” Magnus replies. “And I have a lot to catch up on.”

Alec chuckles and opens his eyes, and looks at Magnus, and into his beautiful dark eyes. They are red-rimmed and still brimming with tears, but the smile on Magnus’ face is brighter than the sun.

“And I think,” Magnus says then and pulls Alec closer, “that I will start right here.”

Alec doesn’t resist when Magnus pulls him into a kiss; they close their arms around each other again, and the tears are drying on their faces as they kiss.

And on the other side of the fence, Ragnor dusts the snow off his knees and smiles at them, and he wipes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Happy Christmas,” he mutters, and heads back inside to make some tea and light the candles on the Christmas tree.


End file.
